Pink

Hidden
Metropolitan gulf
Hey you
Hey thee
Where your
Cloudy cloth
Sky and blue
Yellow and yellow
Green and green
I am all
I am every in a pink light
Excuse that
I am the love
In a back street
Lane
Over a night
Entire a pray
Now a metaphor melody
Cunning after
The “waist myself”
The album
Blowing you to all
“Senseless”
One to three plus one
It had December
Not died
Still alive
Some corner of heart
Look again I am the love.

Morning Station

Few hoboes
In clumsy voice
Honestly
messy
it somehow a gossiping
today rainbow I did not saw
next to the sky
Ass-black up side
Down
Pickle without taste
No way
Few single boy
Playing the round game
They know the “LOPAZE”
In a frame
Conversation had half type
There had no pink
Just patchy sound
Way out
Along with light
Under a station
Shade.

Follow the game

Miles
And you
Wrinkle your body
Hovered lane
Light arrived
In a proxy game
Do not
Know
Or a scrap bubbling
On eyes
Walking
With the two limbs
Medical science called
It is legs
Thus you proved
In a paper log
Little there signature
For a proof of you
And your
Liberal head
Not so own
Only a second
Run oh you run
Expect there a deadly
Beauty
Alive a reason to
Charming you
Hence
You and your
All should be an end
Next
Follow the game.

A Troop

Here me
My ass
Red boy exactly right angle
Pre-mature
Fun to amuse
Inside clumsy mail train
Mumbai pant
Strip T-shirt
Simply no one with cap
Only he
Legs flock bamboo
Have no violence
Drunker buddy crossing
The miles
Hand black coal
Blackish his body
Left door blocked
Among baggage and trunk
Down town passed
Bored a group of soldier
Just waterless
Fish
Came to protect us
One of one down
in train
Midnight standing
Shaking as milk
After eyes
A pregnant sleeping
Sits are fall into bed
Baggage as chair
Morning
So far
Dreams are
Too
It had a
Journey.